


You Won’t Ever Have to Sleep Alone

by CallousHeartz



Series: DUST RATS! [7]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (lots of ‘em), Also known as the “how many kisses can be exchanged in the space of about 15 mins” challenge, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Oneshot, Sleepy Cuddles, two desert boys being in love n saying “fuck” a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 11:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallousHeartz/pseuds/CallousHeartz
Summary: Ghoul figures his poor excuse for a blanket isn't necessary afterall.(title taken from the song Sleep Alone by Waterparks)





	You Won’t Ever Have to Sleep Alone

**Author's Note:**

> for now and for future reference, I go with the idea that the Killjoys and the members of MCR are entirely separate entities:)
> 
> thanks for reading! lov u a lot<3

Keeping track of time wasn't exactly something people did in the zones, but Fun Ghoul reckoned it must have been about 3am when a draught roused him from his sleep.

Shifting to sit upright and grabbing the edge of the leather seat for support, he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Earlier that evening, a slight draught wouldn't have been a problem, thanks to the sheet of fabric he'd salvaged from the trash heap two days ago which, despite its rips and stains and vaguely uncomfortable scent of past owners, had turned out to work adequately as a blanket.

But now it was gone.

It'd been taken hostage by a certain sleeping dickhead known as Jet Star, and Ghoul would have taken the damn thing back, but the Girl was fast asleep next to the thief himself.  
Sure, Jet was a warmth-stealing motherfucker, but the little kid had done nothing to deserve to pay for it with him.

Ghoul flopped forwards with a defeated huff, his torso stretched across the cold surface of the table. 

Well, wasn't this just fucking dreamy? 

There was no way he'd manage to get back to sleep now; the draught wouldn't leave him alone, he had no protection against it, and if Kobra didn't stop fucking snoring across the booth right about now, Ghoul might just have to tear the sheet away from his other sleeping crewmate and smack him in the face with it.

He'd undoubtedly regret that decision later on, though, he reminded himself.

As he'd learned after multiple unfortunate past experiences: no matter what, Kobra Kid would always get his revenge.

Probably five lengthy minutes later, and after Jet's elbow had shoved its way into his side about three times, Ghoul decided that he wasn't about to tolerate another second. And anyway, he knew for certain there'd be one other person up at this hour.

He slipped out of the booth, careful to do so in silence, steadying himself with a hand on the nearest table corner. He could just about make out the shapes of furniture in the darkness, and he used them to guide himself to the entrance.

The door had been left open a crack; Ghoul retracted slightly, gritting his teeth as an icy gust of air swept over him.

The diner wasn't exactly a toaster, but this - this was something else all together.

Bracing himself, Ghoul gave the door one almighty push.

Fuck.

Cold. 

For lack of a better combination of words, fucking, fucking cold.

Ghoul swore under his breath, wrapping his arms around himself to retain any body heat he might have left.

"Oh. Evening, fuckface," Came a voice from beside the door.

Ghoul looked down.  
Poison was lounging against the wall of the diner, shoulders rolled back like he was sitting in the sun despite the fact the cold had turned his cheeks and nose a soft shade of pink.

"It’s morning actually, shitbag," Ghoul retorted.  
"And it’s fucking freezing," He slid down the wall to join the gang’s leader, "How can you sit out here like this?"

"The cold don't keep Better Living out," Poison replied with a shrug, reaching up to flick a stray wisp of pillar box-coloured hair out of his face, "How come you're out here?"

"I got cold and woke up,"

"Yeah, and coming out here into fuckin' Antarctica 2.0 makes a whole lot of sense," Poison flashed Ghoul a smirk, before yawning into his hand and pulling his knees up to his chest to rest his forehead on them for a moment.

Ghoul wrapped an arm around Poison's back, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze.

"You haven't slept in, what, two days?" He noted. 

Poison sighed, letting his head fall onto Ghoul's shoulder.

"Korse an' those soulless fuckers of his don't sleep either," Poison replied. 

"Not a single drac's set foot in this ghost town in about two months. I think we're ok,"

"Don't matter," Poison chewed on his bottom lip, trying hard to keep his focus as Ghoul’s fingers ran through his hair - he still had a job to do, "I've- we've gotta be prepared for that shit. Destroya knows when the pigs'll get over here, and there's no way in hell I'm puttin’ my crew and base at risk for a couple hours of fuckin' sleep,"

He lifted his head and straightened up, as if getting back to business, staring almost expectantly at the horizon again.

"Two nights ain't a couple hours,” Ghoul murmured. 

He knew nothing would come out of any efforts to persuade him - Poison was stubborn, and took pride in it - but it was worth a shot at least.

Words were running dry, though, so instead Ghoul stroked the backs of his fingers over the prominent curve of Poison's cheekbone.

"The starlight looks real damn pretty on you, y'know," he said.

Poison playfully swatted at Ghoul's hand.

"Quit it, ya sappy fuck," He retorted, but there was that coy little smile on his face that didn’t show itself often. 

Ghoul felt a sense of victory; he’d brought it out, and he sure as hell wanted it to stick around a little longer.

"Oh, fuck off. You love my gross compliments really," He teased.

"I guess they're..." Poison turned and draped his arms around Ghoul's neck, "Tolerable to some extent,”

For the first time since he'd woken up, the cold was the last thing on Ghoul's mind; the space between himself and Poison - or lack thereof -was starting to overshadow it.

"Y'know," Ghoul said, grinning, "I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard you say. Like, to anyone,"

"Yeah. And it's the last of its kind. Feel honoured, sweetheart.”

Ghoul pushed a hand into Poison's hair, tugging softly, and Poison's eyes fluttered shut, his breath hitching just enough for Ghoul to hear,

"Oh, believe me. I do,"

Ghoul moved a hand to Poison's cheek, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip before pulling him in for a kiss, languid, clumsy and careless with worn-out 3am spirit.

Moving away for breath, Poison grazed the tip of his nose against Ghoul’s as the two giggled hopelessly.

"C'mere, angel," Ghoul murmured. He grasped at the leader's hips, pulling him into his lap.

Poison kissed his eyelid, making a small noise of appreciation as Ghoul’s arms wrapped around his waist.

"'Let's go sit in the trans am or somethin', 's still cold," Ghoul suggested.

"Y'mean in the backseat?” An evil smirk came over Poison’s face, “With all the cockroaches that come out at night and try ‘n crawl down yer ass crack?”

Ghoul gritted his teeth at the thought.

"Yeah, let’s not do that,"

He gave Poison’s throat a kiss, before pushing his face into his shoulder with a happy sigh.

A cold gust lashed against his bare arm and he tensed up, as if trying to submerge himself in Poison's body heat (of which there wasn’t much).

"Man, this cold's gonna fuckin' dust us, I swear," He whined, "I wanna go sit indoors,"

"I gotta keep watch, baby,” Poison stroked the nape of Ghoul's neck under his jacket collar, "You can go in if you need to, though. I’ll be ok,"

Ghoul made a noise of disagreement.

"But you’re not there, are you?” He nuzzled Poison’s collarbone, pausing to rest his head against his sternum,  
"We'll be safe, darling, I promise,"

He lifted his head to trail kisses down the curve of Poison’s neck, stopping halfway and glancing up as if waiting for Poison to give him the go-ahead. Poison tugged his t-shirt collar further down,

“Only here, ‘cause if Kobra sees it he’ll turn it into a nickname again,”

Ghoul returned his lips to gently suck at the skin. 

Poison breathed in sharply, and clutched at Ghoul’s back, his eyes falling shut as he silently re-thought his decision to spend the night outdoors.

Playfully tugging the skin between his teeth, Ghoul pulled away.   
He grinned at the flushed little mark he'd left.

"Alright, screw it, I kinda do want to go inside," Poison admitted.

"Oh, fuck yes!" Ghoul hissed. 

Poison rolled his eyes.

The two slipped into the diner almost silently - could have been complete silence if Ghoul's instant response to knocking his elbow into the door frame hadn’t been to let out a stream of expletives.

The little spare room wasn’t difficult to find, even in the dark, and soon the pair were curled up like kittens on the splintered floor.

"Well, this ain't too bad," Poison whispered.

"We got a smaller chance of freezing to death in here," Ghoul replied, "So that's something."

Poison pulled off his fingerless gloves and threw them somewhere next to him.

"Fuckin' fountains comin' outta my palms," he explained, before adding, "My gloves smell like sewage water,"

"Lovely," Ghoul replied bluntly.

"Damn right I am,"

"Sure you are,” Ghoul whispered, lips against Poison's hairline before he gently kissed his browbone, “I'm too tired to argue on that point," 

Poison giggled,

“Piss off,”

He traced a finger along the light dusting of stubble on Ghoul’s jaw.

Ghoul felt himself melt inside just a little - he pecked Poison’s lips once, then again, lingering for a moment longer as Poison threaded their fingers together. Sliding his hand under the hem of the leader’s shirt, he cupped the small of his back.

“You’re too precious,” He ran his hand over the ridge of Poison’s hipbone and let it settle there, “I love you,”

This was all he’d ever need.

Poison stroked the scar running up Ghoul’s left cheek,

”I love you, too,” His voice, rough around the edges as it always was, already held the soft rasp of sleep.

Minutes of comfortable quiet passed, and pretty soon Poison had given into his nagging exhaustion, fast asleep on Ghoul’s chest.

Ghoul couldn’t find sleep himself, but at this point he barely minded; laying right there, vaguely aware of Poison’s steady breathing and the comforting scent of his hair as he gently ran his fingers through it was more than enough.

As far as he was concerned, Ghoul was the luckiest guy in the desert right then - sleepless and sprawled on splintered floorboards, but who cared?

Pressed right up against the guy he’d fallen so in love with - so damn, hopelessly in love with - he’d never been so comfortable in his life.

And Poison made a far better blanket than an oversized scrap of shitty fabric. Jet could keep it.


End file.
